Going for Gold
by DarkFlameJ
Summary: Sam is at college and dad is off on a hunt. Dean has his own secrets, and he's not even in the same country as his family anymore. Across the sea, he competes in the Olympic games. He works hard and does his best. He is going for gold, but maybe once the games end that means more than what he thinks it does. (Olympics AU- sort of)
1. The Games

The announcer was shouting, "lane two nearly a full 10 seconds ahead of the world record. This is incredible! Nails the turn and starts the last 50 meters in this 100-meter freestyle race. No one was expecting this! USA blowing away the competition! Nearly to the wall, no one even close to catching up! USA has done it! First-time Olympian and underdog Dean Winchester has broken the world record! This is unbelievable!"

The young man trod water while leaning against the side of the pool, panting lightly. He looked up at the screen that showed his time and smirked. The last competitor had just tapped the wall, the race was over. He let his smile fade, replaces with a flat expression, not giving away any of the excitement that coursed through his veins. His teammate swam into his lane and pulled him into a congratulations hug, "you did it, man!"

"Yeah," he allowed himself a small smile.

He pulled himself out of the water, walking back to where his clothes are he tried to avoid as many people as he can. Dean never really had been one for big crowds anyway. But plans don't always work out the way he wants. He was stopped by a news reporter, " Dean, you have just won your first gold medal and broken a world record. What is going through your head right now?"

He stopped and thought for a moment. Not quite expecting to be stopped by a big news reporter. Then he responded, "I am just thinking about my later races. It hasn't really hit me yet. I'm sure later it will."

"And how about your family. This is your first time at the Olympic Games here in Athens. Are they here? What are their thoughts on you competing for your country?"

Dean was once again stumped, "I mean yeah, they think it's cool I guess."

The reporter would not let up, " are they here to watch you?"

"No, they are not. Now if you will let me through I really do need to get going."

With that, he pushed passed and gathered his clothes from the bench heading straight back into the locker room. He was only there for a second before his teammates pulled him out again to where the award ceremony was happening. Everyone kept patting him on the back and congratulating him on his achievement.

Soon he found himself stepping up onto the top of the winner's platform. The highest podium, he dipped his head as he was given the gold medal. Then it hit him, he had just one the first place medal at the Olympics. His chest swelled with pride and he stood so straight that his back almost hurt. He watched his flag rise and held his hand over his heart as his anthem played. A single tear fell from his right eye, brushed away before even the news cameras could catch it.

As soon as the ceremony ended he rushed back to the locker room. Once there he grabbed his towel from his locker and placed it on another bench right by his clothes. He took a quick shower to wash all of the chlorine from his body. He allowed himself a few extra minutes of comfort under the warm spray of water to calm his muscles and relax his still thundering heart rate. Only when he was in real danger of being late did he shut off the water and quickly get dressed in his dry clothes. A pair of sweatpants, a t-shirt, and a zip-up jacket. As he exited the locker room.

With a quick goodbye to his celebrating teammates, he was off again. He was about to do something that no one had ever done before. He would be competing in two categories. Swimming and rifle. The rules had been changed and the schedules lined up to allow this. He took a vehicle to the shooting range in a nearby building. He sauntered into the back waiting room where his teammates were waiting for their turn to shoot. All eyes were drawn to him as he entered the room.

They glared once they saw his still damp hair. One even sneered at him, "so Winchester, finally decided to show up? Are you done playing lifeguard for the day?"

He shrugged, unzipping his jacket and pulling something out, "I just had to pick up something before I left."

Jaws hit the floor. If he had been looking to sour their mood he had succeeded. He smirked for a second, that was the difference between the teams. Rifle competitors got angry if you won but the swimmers would be happy for you. He quickly tucked away his medal and sat back in the corner and listened to his music.

Soon he was competing again, he shot with ease and didn't have any hiccups. It didn't surprise him when he got first place. He had, after all, been shooting since he was five.

Eventually, the weeks ended and he had won a total of six gold medals, three for each sport. During that time he had avoided many of the reporters who seemed desperate to ask him as many questions as possible. There was one thing that he couldn't avoid. The team press meetings.


	2. Back to work

"So Dean, you are the only athlete to ever compete in two different categories. How do you feel about that?"

"It's a real honor. I got to see so many more people and master two completely different disciplines. It is a great feeling to have been as successful as I was," he responded. The audience was filled and his teammates were all sitting in a row in front of them. Lights flashed from the photographers and pens scratched furiously at paper trying to get down every word. Every time a question was answered there was a flurry of hands all waving to be picked next.

"Winchester, which did you enjoy more? Swimming or shooting?"

"I've been shooting since I was little so it was easier. I'm newer at swimming and there is a lot more direct competition since you can see how your opponents are doing and I like that better."

A few questions went by, to other teammates, then he felt like he was being interrogated again. "Dean, which team do you prefer to spend your time with?"

"I enjoy both teams. Both filled with talented competitors," he responded smoothly.

The reporter was not going to give up that easily though, "But which would you rather be with more of the time?"

Dean just glared at the reporter, "Both are groups of fine people that I am glad to be on a team with. Next question."

Another person asked, "what are your plans for when you get back home?"

"I'm planning on traveling a lot, beyond that I don't know what I'll be doing."

"What about training for the next Olympic Games?"

Dean looked over at the teammate to his right, confused, "do you think they will invite me back next year?"

The man looked at him incredulously, how could Dean not know that they would definitely invite him back the following year. He had just won multiple gold medals for the country. The US officials would have to be out of their minds to not let him back next year. He took too long to respond because Dean just shrugged his shoulders and answered, " I don't know. If I can come back I will, but in the meantime who knows what will happen. Life is dangerous."

"Speaking of dangerous," another reporter pressed, " there have been lots of rumors going around about your scars. Would you care to put any of them to rest?"

He laughed, "rumors huh? What have people been saying about me?"

"Well, you haven't mentioned your family nearly at all. So some people think that you may have had a bad home life, while others think the scars are the result of gang fighting."

Once again laughing, "no, nothing like that. I haven't ever been in any gang fights. I may not have grown up in five-star hotels, but I had a good childhood. Most of my scars are from hunting accidents or roughhousing with my kid brother."

"And what about your pentagram tattoo? Many people are kind of freaked out by it."

He scoffed, "there is nothing to freak out about. It's actually a symbol to ward of evil. It's for protection. Anyone who is freaked out about how I mark my body can bite me."

~.~

Soon the games were over and talk of them stopped. Dean vanished from the public eye, many reporters and news outlets tried to track him down and ask him further questions. They had no such luck. He took a boat all the way back to the USA, no airplanes for him.

He got his baby from the storage unit by the dock he had left it in. He hid his medal in a black bag stashed in the side panel of the trunk. No one needed to find them, they were just something for him to be proud of. He didn't want anyone, especially his family to know. They wouldn't understand. Especially not his dad, he would question why he wasn't hunting for that time.

Speaking of dad, that was Dean's first objective when he got back to the mainland. He met up with him, lying smoothly that he had been on a wendigo hunt deep in the woods out of cell service. John was none the wiser.

He noticed that Dean was moving a bit slower than usual, almost asking if he had been hurt on the hunt. But decided against it he figured if his son was hurt he would let him know. Dean wasn't hurt from any hunt anyway, just sore from overworking his muscles competing.

They fell back into the routine of tracking down a hunt and taking care of it. Sam was at college, and dad never let Dean forget how he was disappointed in his younger brother. Dean wasn't happy anymore. Endless hunts, same takeout food, scummy motels. All over and over again.

He dreamed about the Olympics. In the beginning, he woke up proud the memory of winning fresh on his mind. Then his dreams warped into nightmares. He swam through blood, thick and hot, his father's voice saying that this blood wouldn't have been shed if he had been home. Innocents died because Dean took a break from hunting and wasn't there to save them. He woke up panting, scared that someone would find out. He wouldn't even go near a swimming pool while Dad was around.

Every once in a while, on solo hunts, he would sneak into a community pool in the middle of the night. Practicing made him feel better, the water always soothed his nerves. He never had nightmares on the nights that he swam. He wished he could always be as free as he felt when he swam.


End file.
